


hug my body, babe

by deathlytireddan



Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sappy as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 13:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13389018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: “You’re saying that an awful lot tonight,” he teases, “what did I do to deserve your hate?”“So much.” Phil is not telling him. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows, absolutely knows, that Dan will cry his eyes out if Phil says what is on his mind.For the prompt: Dan and Phil slow dance.





	hug my body, babe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Strong language, mentions Phil curling his toes from dah pleasure (lol)
> 
> I’m actually really nervous to post this one. I love it, but I’m not sure if it’s just gross cheesy. It’s also a bit different from my usual writing style....maybe because I wrote the end of it sitting on the toilet when I should have been brushing my teeth?

Coming home feels especially strange this time. Or, it always feels strange, but this visit in particular was strange and it leads to a stranger return. 

Phil was surrounded by family, and extended family, and their extended family. He’d taken pictures of the food and the clothes he wore and selfies with his mum and sent most of them to Dan. He’d still felt alone, though, despite being surrounded by some of his favorite people. and found his phone in his hand more times than he’d like to admit. 

The wedding, for cousins he really doesn't know, was fun, if stressful and awkward. He’s never known how to answer that question. The question. “Do you have a girlfriend yet?”

Once, and only once, a cousin around Phil’s age with her long-time girlfriend had asked if he had anyone, using gender neutral language, and Phil had just smiled, thinking of Dan’s full-bodied laughter and warm eyes. He’d felt relieved, and tired, when she smiled back, nodding her head like she understood perfectly.

Now he’s standing outside his flat, hesitating. He’s not sure why. He can hear the sounds of a tv in the background, playing what sounds like Formula 1. The smell of Indian carry out is invading the hall, hopefully coming in from under their door. He’s ready to curl up in Dan’s lap and be quiet. Peaceful. 

He unlocks the door, the smell growing stronger. He smiles, setting his suitcase by the door and toeing off his shoes. He’ll put everything away later, after he’s full of home.

Dan is a lump under a thick blanket stolen from their bed, hair in the frizzy, took-a-shower-and-didn’t-bother-to-do-anything-with-it mess that he hates and Phil loves. He pushes it off Dan’s forehead, watching the curls bounce back, and leans down to press a kiss to his warm cheek.

Dan jumps, eyes opening and going wide. “Phil! Jesus fuck. Bastard.” He covers his face with his hands. “I thought you were a burglar!”

“Do all your burglars kiss you?” Phil grins, sitting on the edge of the sofa next to Dan. He just wants to sit on him, desperately, but doesn’t think Dan would appreciate that. 

Dan glares up at him. “They might, if you keep talking and don’t get down here.” He presses back against the sofa and lifts the blanket up, making a grumbling noise as he struggles to pull it from under Phil’s butt.

Phil giggles, watching Dan’s nose crinkle up as he makes an exaggerated face of annoyance. He almost wants to pull the blanket back, just to see Dan sign and cross his arms, but the idea of being in Dan’s arms is too appealing. 

Phil pulls his socks off (Dan is always slightly too warm), sliding under his arm. He doesn’t press his back to Dan’s chest, instead squishing his hand between Dan’s back and the sofa and situating himself under Dan’s chin, where he can breathe in the smell of Dan’s fancy shampoo and feel a cracked mouth kiss his hair, feel the way their ribs press together as they breathe. 

He sighs loudly. 

Dan giggles. “Hello,” he says, for the first time.

Phil feels a twinge of embarrassment. He hasn’t even thought of eating, or said much of anything. He’d just wanted this, desperately and wholly.

“This is nice,” Dan says, voice a low rumble under Phil’s ear. “But are you alright?” 

Phil makes a noise. “I can’t have cuddles without something being wrong?” He doesn’t sound upset, more joking, but Dan coos and almost flattens Phil. 

“You’re tense. And I ordered Indian.” 

Phil shrugs, hiding his nose in Dan’s collarbone. “It wasn’t...” he doesn’t know what to say, if there is anything to say, really, that hasn’t been said a thousand times before. 

“You texted more than usual,” Dan observes. “Was it that bad? I could’ve gone.” He couldn’t have, not really, but the idea of it still makes Phil’s stomach tighten. 

Phil turns around, nearly falling off the sofa, but Dan’s arms keep him safe from the cold floor. “People kept asking if I have anyone. One cousin asked with her girlfriend, and that was quite nice. And Mum kept looking at me all sad, whispering that you should’ve come.” 

Dan doesn’t speak. He’s just breathing quietly on Phil’s neck, listening to him talk and let it all out.

“And then I had to slow dance with my great-great...great? Aunt.” Phil laughs. It is kind of funny. Dan makes a noise through his nose like he’s trying not to laugh himself. “It was terrible. She smelled awful!”

“Don’t be ageist, Phil.”

“You’re with me, Dan.”

Dan huffs, hooking his chin over Phil’s shoulder and looking down at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil exhales. “I’m being all sad, aren’t I?”

Dan nudges at him until Phil twists around to look at him, their legs horrible tangled, Dan digging his chin into Phil’s breastbone and staring up at him.

Dan has a look in his eyes, one that never fails to make Phil’s chest ache and a lump form in his throat. It’s almost too much, and it always has been. He rubs a thumb under Phil’s eye, feeling the permanent laugh lines in the corner, not unlike Dan’s own.

“I’ll go with you next time, okay? Fuck it. I want to. And we can get drunk and slow dance and make out like teenagers again if it would make you happy.” 

Phil bites his lip, blinking quickly. “Are we ever going to just be like, ‘hi, how was your week, missed you, blah blah.’” 

“Maybe when I’ve got dementia.” 

“Don’t joke about that!” He sits up, wacking Dan with a pillow. 

“Sorry,” Dan winces. “Sorry.”

Phil shakes his head, laying back down. 

-

After Phil has showered with Dan and eaten, has soaked up as many cuddles as he can and finally feels calm, Dan demands he wait in the bedroom for a few minutes. Phil squints suspiciously but goes, already having an idea of what Dan is doing because his partner is a sappy, cheesy idiot. 

Sure enough, when he comes back out, Dan has pushed the coffee table into a corner and hung fairy lights from hooks in the ceiling. They look like the stick on ones, luckily.

They’re both wearing sweats and old shirts, Dan still has his curly frizz and tired eyes, but he’s grinning wide enough to make his eyes crinkle up. They probably both look ridiculous.

Soft, twinkling music is coming from the tv; it looks like Dan has found a youtube playlist. It shows a wedding on the beach, and a dancing couple, and Phil decides not to comment. 

Dan grins sheepishly, holding out his hand. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Phil slides his hand into his larger, warmer one, feeling his heart skip a beat. He feels silly, and a tiny bit stupid, for being this happy. 

He steps into Dan’s space, socked toes bumping Dan’s bare ones. “I’m not being silly, am I?” He feels naked today, not in the good way, but in the dreaming about being naked at school way.

Dan puts his hands on Phil’s face, stroking his cheekbones, brushing off a stray eyelash. “No,” he says, leaning in. Their lips smack softly. The wet, intimate sound used to embarrass Phil, but now he loves it. 

Phil slides his arm around Dan’s neck, starting to sway softly, resting his head on Dan’s shoulder. The slight, barely there height difference gives him the perfect ledge to rest his nose on, next to Dan’s shirt collar. 

“You aren’t touching me,” Phil complains, purposely breathing hotly onto Dan’s neck. He wriggles his hips. 

Dan laughs. “Demanding, babe.” The name makes heat rise in Phil’s cheeks and that makes Dan laugh, poking at one of them. 

Still, he rests his hands on Phil’s hips, sneaking a thumb under the hem of his shirt and rubbing the soft skin there. 

“We couldn’t do this at a wedding,” Dan says, voice amused but also completely serious, “they wouldn’t be able to handle our love. It’d make them implode. Or question their life choices.”

Phil kicks his ankle. “Fuck off, oh my god.” He hides his face in Dan’s neck. “I hate you, I hate you.” But somehow they’re kissing again, and Dan is whispering something about them making out on the dance floor, and Phil isn’t really complaining.

Then the music changes to something low and sad. Phil doesn’t recognize it. It’s something French, he thinks. The instrumentals are beautiful, being unable to understand the words is adding to the feeling already building inside him.

It’s the exact kind of thing he loves. 

He bites his lip, looking up into Dan’s eyes. He’s already looking down at Phil. 

“Did you do that on purpose?”

Dan nods. “I found it yesterday.” He smiles, one corner of his mouth lifting lazily. “I’m a cheesy fuck, I know.”

Phil sighs. Dan always knows, somehow. He just does. “Cheesy bastard,” he mutters into Dan’s shirt. “I hate you.”

“You’re saying that an awful lot tonight,” he teases, “what did I do to deserve your hate?” 

“So much.” Phil is not telling him. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he knows, absolutely knows, that Dan will cry his eyes out if Phil says what is on his mind. 

“Elaborate, please.” 

“No. You know enough.” Phil looks at him pointedly, and Dan sighs, lip pushed out the tiniest bit, but he doesn’t press it, just leans over Phil and tucks his chin into Phil’s shoulder. “Fine, dad.” 

Phil pokes at the back of Dan’s neck in retaliation. “Do you do this with all your dads?” It’s a relatively new nickname to add to the list, one that makes him grimace. Somehow it’s a tiny bit cute, but it’s mostly horrible. 

There’s a pause, like Dan is deciding what to say. In the end he doesn’t, he just dips Phil down and kisses behind his ear, that spot that makes Phil’s toes curl in his socks, and whispers something horribly perfect and wonderful and Phil does cry, just a tiny bit. And Dan wipes under his own eyes, not at all subtly, and they smile. 

Because he will take Dan to a wedding some day. It doesn’t have to be theirs, or anyone’s in particular. Because that isn’t the point. The point is that Dan is Phil’s, and Dan will metaphorically fight anyone that says otherwise, with a cheesy dance in their living room in their sweats and old shirts if necessary. Because Phil can’t fight a pigeon, as Dan likes to say on a weekly basis, but Phil knows he would fight all the pigeons in London if that’s what Phil needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this :)  
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://mylionbabe.tumblr.com)


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